Dodging Bullets and Feelings
by Copper's Mama
Summary: Someone put a hit out on Guerrero's family ... with the mother of his son dead, Guerrero must now protect his son and find out who ordered the hit - and kill them before they kill him. Ames/Guerrero fic. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Human Target. _

_... _

_A/N: I'm glad you guys have like my other Human Target stories so far, thanks for all the reviews and favorites! _

_This one should definitely be longer than my others, and a multi-chapter fic to boot! _

_The mother of Guerrero's son is murdered, and his son is being targeted. When his son takes a liking to Ames, Guerrero must trust her to look out for the boy while he tries to find out who put the hit out on his family, and stop them before they get to him. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

"Don't aim with your hand," Guerrero instructed, motioning to the target about twenty feet away that he wanted Ames to hit. "Find the center with your eyes, and tell your arm where to send the knife."

Ames glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with a scoff. "It's not like I don't know how to throw a knife."

"Yeah, well, your accuracy leaves a little something to be desired, dude. Just focus on what you're supposed to be doing."

They were standing in the middle of an empty field; empty, except for the targets that Guerrero had set up for her to practice on. A couple times a week she took sparring lessons with Chance, and one or two days a week - depending on his schedule - she took other training lessons with Guerrero. Sometimes it was weapons training, sometimes it was tactical exercises, sometimes it was endurance training, and a few of the more intense days were torture-resistance training. Currently, they were focused on weapons.

Ames stared at the spot that she wanted to hit, focusing her eyes intently on the center. After exhaling slowly, she pulled her arm back, held the target, and then flung the knife at the spot. It didn't hit exactly the right mark, but it was closer than before. Ames begrudgingly admitted that he knew what he was talking about. "Sweet," she vocalized, glancing at him with a grin.

"Save the bragging for when you actually hit the target," Guerrero replied uninterestedly.

Ames frowned. "I _did_ hit the target," she told him,

"Not _your_ target," he replied.

Ames sighed, picking up her next knife to try again. She was learning from the best, and she was grateful, but a little positive encouragement wouldn't hurt ...

They carried on like that for a few more minutes, until Guerrero's phone rang.

"Hey, you told me to shut mine off!" Ames protested as he pulled it out of his pocket.

Guerrero ignored her, recognizing the ring tone and answering immediately. "This is Guerrero."

"Men are trying to get into the house!" the woman's worried voice shrieked desperately into the phone, loud enough for Ames to hear.

Guerrero's face steeled immediately, and he picked up a handful of the weapons he'd laid out and began stalking towards his car. "How many?" he asked her. After a few seconds of nerve-wracking silence, Guerrero spoke again. "Elizabeth! How many?"

She shuddered out a cry into the phone, but answered, "F-five, maybe six. I'm scared. They said ..."

Guerrero tossed his gear into the truck, barely noticed Ames following behind him to assist in the packing. "They said what?"

"They called me ... Mrs. Guerrero," Elizabeth told him.

Guerrero clenched his jaw. "Where is he?" he asked next, walking around to the driver's side door and pulling it open, dropping down into the seat and forcing the key into the ignition.

"He's in the hiding place," Elizabeth relayed to him.

"Why the hell aren't you there, too?" Guerrero asked her.

Ames slid into the passenger seat, glancing over at him.

Guerrero wanted to tell her to get out, but he didn't have time to argue, and he wasn't going to put Elizabeth on hold, so he just threw the car into reverse and peeled back onto the road.

"I don't want them to find him," Elizabeth argued. "If I lead them away -"

"No," Guerrero declared. "Don't be stupid. Get to him, now, and stay there. I'm twenty minutes away." As he spoke, his pressure on the gas pedal increased.

"Maybe if I make a run for the neighbor's ..." Elizabeth suggested off-hand.

"Dammit," Guerrero mumbled to himself, willing the car to go faster.

Ames sat awkwardly in the seat next to him, feeling worry and sadness for what was happening to his family - the family she wasn't supposed to know anything about. She was sure that he would be pissed when he discovered that she'd lied about seeing the photograph of his son in the briefcase.

"Oh, my god! No!" Elizabeth's voice shouted into the phone, and Guerrero's eyes widened slightly.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, coming dangerously close to crushing his phone in his other hand. "Elizabeth!" he nearly shouted into the phone, but there was no response. A couple seconds later, the line went dead.

Ames watched as his skin paled, and was certain that for at least ten seconds, Guerrero had stopped breathing. He seemed to regain himself quickly, for he chucked the phone onto the dash and focused all of his attention on driving, eyes intensely focused.

...

It seemed to take hours, but they finally pulled up in front of the house. By pulled up, of course, that meant Guerrero swung the car halfway into the driveway and exited almost immediately. He moved around to the trunk and threw it open, sliding a few choice blades onto his belt, and then loaded two 9mm guns. He slid a few extra clips into his pockets, just in case. He was about to close the trunk when Ames reached in and pulled out a gun of her own.

"You're not going in there," Guerrero told her.

"Yes I am," Ames argued, loading the weapon.

Guerrero flared his blue eyes at her, his gaze flickering between her in the house. "We step through that door, you are last on my list of concerns. I won't be watching your back."

"I can watch my own back," she assured him.

Any other day, Guerrero probably would have argued the point further, or just tied her up in the backseat, but he didn't have time to do either, so he just turned and headed towards the house. Guns at the ready, he kicked the front door open. He fired his first two shots almost immediately, catching one of the men in the chest. Another came at him from the right, and he whipped his leg up to catch him in the chin. When he landed on his back, Guerrero shot him once in the head, ensuring that he would be no further trouble.

Ames followed Guerrero into the house, a million thoughts running through her mind. She couldn't believe that she was entering the house that Guerrero's kid lived in, she couldn't believe the kid lived in a fricken suburb, complete with white-picket fences, and probably neighborhood watch and block parties. As though that wasn't enough to send her reeling, she was following the enraged man into a house with an unknown amount of bad guys inside trying to kill him, while there was a very good chance that the woman - _Elizabeth_ - was dead. Or at the very least, held captive. Ames hoped that wherever his son was, that he was safe.

A man coming down the stairs caught her attention and pulled her from her thoughts. With a wince, she aimed the weapon at him, firing twice to catch him in the stomach and chest. He tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs, landing in a heap at her feet.

Guerrero was a man on a mission. Anyone that moved - that wasn't Ames or Elizabeth - was on his hit list, and he was taking them out one at a time. He didn't allow himself to think of his son, and whether or not he'd been able to remain hidden. He refused to think of why the line had gone dead, and where Elizabeth was. He just wanted these assholes out of his house, one way or another.

After killing his way through the main floor, he began to make his way up the stairs, Ames hot on his heels. They were attacked almost as soon as their feet hit the second-floor landing, two more men rushing out of the room closest to them.

Guerrero got one shot off before they were surrounded, and then his guns were more of a hindrance than a help. They were too close to get off a clean shot, and he wouldn't risk a stray bullet going anywhere other than where it was intended ... not in the house, not when he didn't know where _they_ were. He threw an elbow into the bigger one's gut, pushing the other one away with a hard kick. Then he grabbed the first one around the neck, whipping him over his shoulder until he hit the ground. The other one was coming back for him, but before he could stand up to meet the attack, Ames had fired from behind him and stopped the man in his tracks.

Guerrero glanced at her briefly, nodding his thanks, before moving on.

"No, no, please!" a woman's voice shouted from the room at the end of the hall.

Another shot rang out, and Guerrero charged down the hall. He got there just in time to see the back of the man's head dropping from view as he jumped out of the second-story window. He made to go after him, but a hand gripping his ankle stopped him. "Beth," he whispered out, dropping to his knees. He'd always worried that this day would come, but now that it had, he wished he'd never met her ... wished he'd never brought this danger into her house.

She'd been shot in the chest, and was fading fast. She reached up with a freckled hand to grip his shirt-covered chest, brown eyes meeting blue. "They ... w-wanted you to ... be too late," she told him in a raspy voice. "They waited ..."

Guerrero clenched his jaw in anger, staring down at the dying woman in his arms. "Who were they?" he asked her, hoping that he could at least avenge her death.

She shook her head. "Don't know ... they were talking ... talking to s-someone on the ... phone," she choked out. "Someone else."

Guerrero stored the information for later, looking around the room. "Where's Matty?" he needed to know.

"The hi-hiding place," she told him.

Her grip was slackening on his chest, but before her hand could drop, Guerrero caught it in his. With no thought for the younger brunette that was standing in the doorway awkwardly, watching the naked display of emotion, Guerrero squeezed Elizabeth's hand in his. "I'm sorry."

She began to nod her head, red bangs scattering over her forehead, but the movement was too much. "Take care ... of him," she made Guerrero promise, and then the light forever fell out of her eyes.

A single tear fell from Guerrero's eye, and it was all he would allow himself to shed for the moment. Placing her arm by her side, Guerrero stood up from the ground and turned, making his way back out of the room.

Ames looked at the woman lying on the bedroom floor, sadness filling her heart. She was beautiful ... Ames shook herself out of it, following Guerrero down into the kitchen.

He pulled open the pantry door, threw a bunch of boxes out of the way, and then stretched his body out on the floor. He grabbed what appeared to be the wall of the pantry with his palms and slid it back, opening up a small, hidden compartment.

Ames waited with bated breath for Guerrero to make some acknowledgement of what - or who - he'd found under there. But, it wasn't Guerrero that broke the silence. A small, sobbing voice that nearly broke her heart cried out, "Daddy!"

...

_End of Chapter one. _

_Well, what do you guys think so far? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	2. Chapter 2

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Two. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and favorites on the last chapter, you guys rock! _

_The rest of the team will make an appearance in this chapter, and Ames will get to know Guerrero's son, Matty. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Guerrero pulled the small boy out of the pantry and into his arms, thankful that he hadn't been found. "You okay?" he asked the child, pulling him back to look over his tiny body for injuries.

Matty sniffled, nodding his head. "Where's Mommy?"

Guerrero closed his eyes briefly, not wanting to think of the woman lying dead on the floor upstairs. "We gotta go, buddy," he told the boy, standing up and pulling him into his arms.

Matty screwed up his face, clenching his tiny hands into fists. "I don't want to go! I want Mommy!"

The older man sighed, shaking his head. "Matty, Mommy can't come. The bad men ... hurt her. They took her away."

Matty's expression changed from angry to worried, and his bottom lip began to tremble furiously. "Can we get her back?"

"We'll talk about it later, Matty. Right now, we gotta go," Guerrero told his son, before picking him up in his arms.

Matty began to struggle, trying to break free of his father's hold on him.

Ames stepped into Matty's line of sight, smiling at the small boy. "Hey, Matty, do you like games?" she asked him.

The small boy paused in his struggles long enough to look at her strangely. "What kind of games?"

Thinking of the bodies in the room between them and the front door. "Well, I bet you a cherry sucker that I can beat you in a staring contest," she told him.

Matty narrowed his eyes, moving his body around so that his head was on his father's shoulder, and his arms were around his neck. "You're gonna lose!" he told her triumphantly.

Ames grinned slightly, despite the situation. "Yeah, we'll see. Alright, so, you gotta keep your hands up like this," she told him, cupping her hands around the sides of her eyes, and waiting for him to do the same. "Perfect. You can blink, but you can't look away from my eyes. Okay?"

Matty nodded determinedly, his hands in place and his tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth.

Guerrero turned away from the pantry, breaking their gaze briefly. He glanced at Ames with something in his eyes that might have been gratitude, but said nothing as he began to walk out of the house.

Ames fell into step behind him, walking closely enough so that with his hands cupped around his face, Matty could only look at her. Not the dead bodies on the floor, or his trashed house. Once they got out to the car, Ames pretended to lose her footing, and broke eye-contact with Matty.

"Haha! I win!" he shouted triumphantly, a wide grin on his face.

Ames slapped her thigh in mock defeat, sighing. "I guess you did," she told him, pulling a sucker she'd intended for herself out of her jacket pocket. "There you go, buddy."

Guerrero glanced around the neighborhood, noticing that some people were watching them out of slats in their blinds, or little spaces in their curtains. "Dammit," he grumbled, placing Matty in the back seat of the El Do. He closed the door, looking at Ames. "Police will be here in a few minutes." He looked back and forth between the house and the car, his eyes sticking on his son for a moment. Finally, he pressed the keys into Ames's hands. "Drive six blocks East and one block North, pull into the parking lot behind the school. Wait for me there."

Ames's eyes widened, taking the keys from him. "What are you gonna do?" she asked him.

"Just get there. Don't leave before I get there," he ordered. He turned to leave, but then spared her one more glance. "Ames?"

"Yeah?"

His eyes hardened. "Don't screw up."

Ames nodded slowly.

Guerrero spared another look for his son before moving back into the house, closing the front door behind him. He heard the car start a couple seconds later, followed by the unmistakable sounds of Ames peeling out of the driveway.

Knowing he didn't have much time, Guerrero moved fast. He checked the bodies on the main floor, retrieving their cell phones and wallets. He took pictures of their faces with his own phone, moving into the kitchen to grab a knife and a plastic bag. Once he had the thumbs and forefingers of the dead men, he made his way up the stairs, repeating the process on the ones who'd attacked them on the upper level.

He moved into Elizabeth's bedroom, removing all evidence of his presence there. He took any items that he'd given her, or could relate to him in any way, including her person diary. He grabbed the picture of her and Matty off of her bedside table, and then moved into his son's room.

Grabbing the large duffel that he'd given to him when he'd joined his first soccer team at age four, he began throwing the necessary items into it. Clothes, toiletries, some toys, books and a couple stuffed animals that were on his bed. Spotting the globe that he'd given him for his fifth, birthday - which seemed like only yesterday - Guerrero threw that into the bag as well. He moved the pillow off of his bed, spotting a picture of the two of them underneath it.

Guerrero paused briefly, picking up the photograph and soaking in the joy that had been on his son's face. They'd taken it when he'd come to see him on his birthday ... Guerrero had his own copy in his briefcase. Sighing, he tucked the picture into the duffel, and then made his way out of the house.

He could hear sirens beginning to approach, so he moved quickly into the garage. Behind the minivan, underneath an old, tattered tarp, was his baby. Well ... more like his love-child. His El Do was his baby. But this ... this one was a beauty. A Kawasaki Ninja 650R ... it was pretty much sex on wheels.

It was too risky to take it out the front, so he pushed it out the side door of the garage, into the neighbor's backyard. If they were watching him, he didn't notice or care. As soon as he was clear, he hopped onto the bike and started the ignition, feeling it roar to life between his legs.

He glanced back at the house one more time, into the window of the master bedroom, where Elizabeth was lying in a pool of her own blood. There was nothing he could do for her anymore ... but he could keep the promise. He could take care of Matty, and make sure nothing bad ever happened to him. That, and he could kill the sons of bitches who came after his family.

With that in mind, he peeled out onto the street, duffel bag of memories slung over his shoulder as he raced down the street expertly. His only thought was that Ames had better have listened to every one of his instructions ... or he would have to kill her, too.

...

"What's your name?" the kid wanted to know.

"Ames," she replied. Even though she knew the answer, she asked back, "What's yours?"

"I'm Matthew," Matty told her. "But everyone calls me Matty."

Ames nodded, smiling softly at the kid.

"How do you know my daddy?" Matty wondered.

Ames glanced down at the open window, meeting the boy's eyes. "We, uh ... work together."

Matty nodded in understanding, considering that.

Ames remained leaned against the side of the car, checking her watch every few seconds. She was parked behind the school, exactly where Guerrero had told her to wait. Still, he hadn't shown. _What could be taking so long? Did the police catch him? Is he still in the house? Come on, Guerrero ... where are you?_ She looked back at the small boy in the backseat, taking in his features. From what she could see, he mostly took after his father. Light-brown hair, same blue eyes ... he was definitely a cutie. Even though she'd known for a while that Guerrero had a son, actually being there with him was mind-boggling.

"Do you know my mommy?" Matty asked her next.

Ames blinked, pursing her lips. "No."

Matty fidgeted in his seat for a couple second, before he looked down at his feet. "She's not coming back, is she?"

Ames felt for the kid, knowing what it was like to grow up without a mother. "I'm sorry."

He wiped at his eyes, looking away from her as he cried silently in the backseat.

Ames perked her ears up as the sound of an engine nearby - a motorcycle, by the sounds of it - and began looking all around her. A few seconds later, Guerrero came into view.

He pulled up beside the car, stopping the bike and sliding off. Setting the kickstand in place, Guerrero moved to the back of the car and opened the trunk, placing the duffel in the back. He pulled another plastic bag from his pocket, and Ames bit back her gag reflex as she saw what was inside of it.

Hearing Matty's whimpers from the backseat, Guerrero looked up at Ames. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Ames assure him. "He's sad ... about his mom."

Guerrero nodded stiffly, closing the trunk and moving to the backseat. "Hey, little dude. You okay?"

Matty nodded sadly, wiping his dripping nose with the back of his sleeve.

"We're gonna stay in the city for a bit," he told his son, reaching in with his hand to wipe at his son's tears. Guerrero turned to look at Ames. "You know how to ride that?" he asked her, motioning towards his bike.

Ames nodded quickly, excited at the opportunity, but knowing it would be distasteful to grin.

"Follow behind us," he told her, sliding into the driver's seat of the Cadillac. "The helmet's in the back compartment."

"Where's Ames going?" Matty wondered.

Guerrero looked at his son in the rearview mirror, pulling his seatbelt on after a moment. "She'll be right behind us."

Ames threw Matty a small wave as Guerrero pushed a button to roll up the window, and then moved to the bike. Under any other circumstances, she'd be over the moon that Guerrero was letting her ride something so ... hot. But, these weren't normal circumstances, and she knew he was only doing it because he didn't want be to away from Matty longer than was necessary. She started the ignition and pushed up the kickstand with the heel of her shoe, waiting for Guerrero to pull out of the lot before she followed him.

As they traveled their way back into the city, Ames wondered what Chance, Winston, and Mrs. Pucci would have to say when they showed up with Guerrero's kid.

...

"A son?" Winston stated for the third time.

"Dude, is there some part of this that you're not getting?" Guerrero asked him.

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around this," the bigger man replied.

Chance, Winston, Ilsa and Guerrero were standing in the main area, looking into the office where Matty was showing Ames his collection of trucks that Guerrero had packed into the duffel.

"Do we know who wanted them taken out?" Chance asked.

"Not yet, but I have a couple leads to check out," Guerrero told him. He'd opted against bringing the fingerprints in, not wanting to alarm Ilsa.

"Well, whatever you need, don't hesitate to ask," Ilsa stated. "The poor thing," she commented, looking at the motherless child. "Is he hungry?"

Guerrero looked at his watch, calculating when Matty probably would have eaten last. He nodded his head.

"I'll go see what I can whip up, then," Ilsa told him, and then bustled her way into the kitchen.

"A son ..." Winton commented again.

"Dude, seriously? Move on," Guerrero told him.

Winston shrugged, moving out of the room and into the office. It was just too much for him to take.

Chance observed his friend, knowing how he must be feeling. "There's nothing you could have done."

"I should have been there," Guerrero argued.

"You can't change the past, Guerrero. All you can do is take care of the present, to make sure that kid has a future," the taller man told him.

Guerrero sighed, meeting Chance's eyes briefly. "I'm not ... dude, I've barely been a father to him. How am I supposed to do this full-time, and kill the bastards who did this?"

Chance brought a hand up to Guerrero's shoulder, squeezing gently. "By letting us help. We're here for you, for whatever you need."

Guerrero nodded, watching his son drive a car up Ames's arm. Whatever happened, he knew that he would do anything to keep that kid safe and happy.

...

_End of Chapter Two. _

_Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful._

_Until next time ...! _


	3. Chapter 3

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Three. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/alerts on this story so far, you guys rock! _

_I'm glad you're enjoying this one so far. I'm not sure how long this one is going to be - I never know, lol. Hopefully it'll be at least ten chapter, maybe more. _

_In this one, some preparations are made for Matty, and the little boy has a tough question for Ames. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Nightfall had settled over the city of San Francisco, and Chance and Guerrero still weren't back. They left for Guerrero's apartment to gather the necessary equipment, knowing that if they'd found Elizabeth and Matty, that it was too risky to go back to the place he was in now. Ames wasn't entirely sure how long it took to completely erase all evidence of someone like Guerrero, but she imagined it would take some time.

Until then, she, Winston, Ilsa, and Matty were on lockdown at the office. The exits were sealed and monitored constantly by Ilsa and Winston, and they were all armed - discretely, of course. They didn't want to scare the poor boy.

Glancing at the clock, Ames figured they wouldn't be back before it was time for Matty to go to bed. Assuming, of course, that he went to bed at a regular time for someone his age.

"Alright, Matty, I think it's time for a bath," Ames told him, sitting up from couch.

Matty glanced at her from where he'd previously been sitting next to her, reading one of his books. "With bubble bath?"

Ames was fairly certain Chance didn't have bubble bath lying around the house, but she could probably improvise something. "We'll see."

"Okay," Matty replied, hopping down from the couch.

Ilsa watched them head up to the bathroom with a soft smile on her face, a hand falling softly on her chest as she watched Matty grab hold of Ames's hand to jump from step to step.

Winston sidled up next to her, watching the scene for a moment.

"That's beautiful, isn't it?" she spoke.

"It's definitely something," Winston commented.

"Oh, come on now," Ilsa replied. "Must you be a grouch about everything, Mr. Winston?" When he merely shrugged, Ilsa spoke again. "Miss Ames definitely seems to have a knack for taking care of him."

"Makes sense," Winston said with a sigh, glancing back at the cameras in the other room.

"How do you mean?" Ilsa wanted to know.

"Well, growing up in foster care ... kids learn to take care of each other," Winston explained. "He's probably not the first kid she's gotten ready for a bath, or read stories too. Probably won't be the last, either."

Ilsa smiled sadly at that thought, her eyes remaining on the stairs, even though the other two had since disappeared onto the upper floor. "I do hope Mr. Chance and Mr. Guerrero return soon. It's getting rather late."

Winston nodded. "Mm-hmm. You and me both."

Upstairs, Ames rooted around in the duffel that Guerrero had packed, pulling out Matty's toothbrush, toothpaste, and a pair of pajamas.

"What about bubble bath?" the boy asked her, standing in the middle of the bathroom floor.

Ames grinned, turning the tap in the tub on, waiting until it was just warm enough before moving to the counter. She pulled out some bottled soap, and Chance's shampoo, and then turned back towards the tub. "This is how we used to make bubble bath when I was a kid," she told Matty, sitting on the edge of the slowly filling tub. She then opened each bottle, angling them so that when she squirted, the soap and shampoo fell into the flowing water from the tap, getting churned into the water as it went into the tub.

Matty watched her with interest, beaming when he saw that it was working. "Cool!" he replied, tugging on his shirt to remove it.

Ames gave him his privacy while he undressed, grabbing a towel from the closet. Once he was in the tub, she set the towel down on the counter and pulled one of his storybooks out of his duffel bag. A picture came out with it, falling gently to the floor.

"Careful with that!" Matty told her, looking down at the picture.

Ames nodded, picking it up carefully and glancing at it. She blinked a few times, unaccustomed to seeing Guerrero looking so ... happy. At ease. It was odd, to say the least. "This is a cool picture of you two," she commented, sliding it back into the duffel bag.

Matty nodded his head in agreement, cupping his hands together to grab a bunch of bubbles, making himself a beard.

Ames settled down against the wall of the bathroom, pulling open the book to begin reading, and trying to shake the image of a carefree, smiling, fatherly Guerrero out of her mind.

...

Though Matty had gotten through his bath and teeth-brushing well enough, when it came time for him to go to bed, he was just a mess. He was exhausted and needed to sleep, but his exhaustion had him missing his mom, and that want was manifesting in tears and hiccoughs.

Ames did her best to console him, but it wasn't until she laid down in the bed with him that he calmed down even a little bit.

"Will I ever see her again?" Matty asked with a sniffle.

Ames sighed, looking down at the boy who was curled up beside her. "Well ... yes, and no. You'll see her in your dreams, and in your memories. Sometimes, it'll feel like she's right next to you, or like she's watching over you."

Matty pouted. "It's not the same."

Ames nodded sadly. "I know, buddy. I know it sucks."

"Why did the bad men hurt her?" Matty wanted to know.

Ames didn't know how to answer that, so she just said, "Because they're bad men. Bad men do bad things."

Matty considered that. He was silent for a long time; so silent, that Ames had begun thinking he had drifted off to sleep. With one hand behind her head, and the other pinned underneath the five-year old, she doubted she'd be able to make an escape without stirring him.

"Ames?" Matty spoke after another moment.

Clearly, he hadn't been sleeping.

"Yes, Matty?"

The young boy worried his lip between his teeth, thinking of his words. "Is my daddy a bad man?"

Ames blinked several times, surprised to hear him ask that. "What makes you say that, kiddo?"

Matty sighed deeply. "Mommy always cried after he left ... you said bad men do bad things, and making someone cry is bad. So, is my daddy bad, too?"

Ames scratched the back of her head with her hand, thinking over the question. By normal standards, the obvious answer was yes. Sure, he worked with them - mostly because of Chance - and helped people, but he was no saint. He had a life outside of the work that they did that wasn't exactly legal. He hurt people ... a lot of people. He was the reigning champion of torture. Ames looked down at the boy beside her, and thought back to the look on Guerrero's face when Elizabeth had called him. She thought of him holding Matty in his arms, and carrying him out of the house. Finally, she answered the boy, "No, he's not a bad man. I don't think he meant to make your mom cry, Matty. Sometimes, people get sad when other people leave. Guer - your daddy is gonna find the bad men who hurt your mom, and make sure they don't hurt anyone else. That makes him one of the good guys, doesn't it?"

The answer seemed to appease Matty, and after a while he sighed and closed his eyes.

Neither of them noticed the slightly short man watching them from the doorway.

...

Guerrero made his way back down the stairs, nodding to Ilsa. "He's crashed."

"I'm not surprised," Ilsa replied. "He's had quite the ordeal today."

Guerrero nodded once again, knowing the truth behind that statement.

Ilsa regarded him for a moment, tilting her head. "How are you doing?"

Guerrero stared back at her. "Meaning?'

"Well ... he's not the only one who lost someone important. Are you feeling -"

Guerrero cut her off. "Let's not do the share and care. I have work to do." He moved into the office, pulling out the bag of fingers that he'd put on ice earlier. He loaded up the appropriate software on the computerized table, and then began scanning them in one at a time.

Chance followed him into the room, less put-off by the handless fingers than Ilsa or Winston. "What do you need me to do?"

Guerrero tossed him the cell phones he'd collected from the men at the house. "Start looking for common numbers. Elizabeth said the guys were talking to someone on the phone before I got there, possibly whoever ordered the hit."

Chance nodded, sitting down at the table and going through the first phone. He jotted down a couple numbers as he went through the contact lists and recent calls.

When Guerrero was finished scanning in the fingers he put them back on ice, and then began loading the pictures he'd taken with his phone.

Chance watched his oldest friend's stoic demeanor, feeling for him. "We're gonna get these guys. You know that, right?"

Guerrero nodded. After a moment, he looked up from what he was doing and held Chance gaze. "And you know that I'm not going to let Isla or Winston have them arrested, right? They came after my family, Chance ... they die."

Chance didn't respond, simply maintained the steady gaze for a few more seconds, and then nodded once. He didn't honestly know what he would do when it came down to it: would he stop Guerrero from murdering them in cold blood, would he sit back and do nothing, or would he help his friend avenge the death of his son's mother?

...

_End of chapter three. _

_Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	4. Chapter 4

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Four. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews so far, guys! You rock! _

_In this chapter, they get a little hint of who ordered the hit, and Guerrero has some to thank Ames for. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Ames managed to slip out of the room about an hour after Matty had fallen asleep, stretching her stiff muscles as she came down the stairs of the office. Winston and Ilsa had already left, deciding that Matty was in capable hands with Chance and Guerrero watching over him.

Yawning, Ames moved into the kitchen to grab a soda, needing a sugar jolt to wake her up.

The other two were hard at work in the office, so she moved into the smaller room to join them. "How's it going?" she asked them.

Guerrero glanced up at her briefly, but it was Chance who answered. "Slow," he told her. "How's he doing?" he inquired, motioning to the room above them.

Ames shrugged. "Okay. He's sleeping now." She peered over at what Guerrero was doing, noticing that he'd matched a few of the faces to mug shots, and at least one of the prints. "I can take over," she told him, "if you want to go up with him."

"Considering that he's sleeping, and therefore wouldn't know that I'm there, I think my time would be better spent finding out who wants him dead," Guerrero informed her. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Ames held his gaze for a moment, but then looked away. "If you say so."

Guerrero turned in his seat, taking his attention away from his task for the moment. "What would you have me do, Ames? Rock him to sleep, sing him lullabies? Do you think that'll make him forget that the woman who took care of him for the last 5 years was murdered because of me?"

Ames shifted uncomfortably, looking at him with sadness and wariness in her eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Guer-"

Guerrero waved her off. "I don't need your placation, Ames. You really don't even need to be here, right now. Go home," he told her, turning back to his work.

Ames sighed, chewing on her bottom lip. "Okay," she replied, not wanting to argue with him. "I'll just ... I was gonna bring him a glass of water. Then I'll leave."

Guerrero nodded absently, ignoring her.

Chance watched her walk out of the office, letting his eyes fall on Guerrero once she was out of earshot. "What's that about?"

Guerrero looked over at him. "What's what about, dude?"

Chance stared at him pointedly.

"What, I'm supposed to bend over backwards and thank her for taking an interest in my kid?" Guerrero wondered. He wouldn't say it, but he was both grateful that she was taking an interest, and jealous of how easily she got along with him. Even when it was just him and Matty, he always had a hard time letting his guard down. It was easier for him to sit there and focus on defending and protecting him, than it was to go bring him a glass of water in case he was thirsty in the middle of the night.

Chance shrugged, knowing there was more to it than Guerrero was letting on, but deciding to leave it for now.

...

Ames quietly set the glass of water down on the beside table, glancing down at the sleeping boy. His arm was curled around the stuffed polar bear that he'd had in his bag, clinging to it as though it was his lifeline. Ames smiled softly down at the kid, thinking of how much he reminded her of Brody at that age. So full of life, but with a hidden, haunted past that he couldn't quite shake. As much as she loved Brody, Ames hoped that Matty didn't grow up to be like him. She wanted him to have a happy, normal life. Someone should get to ...

Ames was turning to leave when she heard a strange, scratching sound coming from the window. Peering over from the opposite side of the bed, Ames was able to make out what appeared to be a circular shape being scratched into the window. Her eyes widened after a moment, realizing that someone was attempting to get in through the window.

She froze, trying to figure out what to do. She could call out for the others, but whoever was on the other side of the window would probably hear her. The lights were off in the room, so he probably couldn't see her. She could make a run for it, but even if she got out of the room and to the others, the guy would be in the room before they got there. If she tried to pick up Matty and make a run for it, the guy would have them both.

The scratching increased, and Ames knew that he would soon be inside the room.

Keeping her body low, Ames tugged Matty towards her, stirring him. "Ames?" he mumbled sleepily. "What are you -"

"Shh, Matty," Ames told him, pulling him off of the bed and down to the floor. "You have to be silent."

Matty's eyes widened, seeing the fear in her eyes. "What's happening?"

Ames put a finger to his lips, reaching up to pull the covers back on the bed, so that what she'd done wasn't so obvious. She could feel his lips trembling, and pulled him closer to her body, lying him down under the bed. With her left hand, she reached down for her pant leg, hiking it up to get at the knife that she'd strapped there earlier in the day.

Matty buried his face in Ames's shoulder, his scared little body trembling.

Ames pounded her feet on the floor a couple of times, hoping that Guerrero or Chance would hear it and know that something was wrong. She stopped almost as soon as she'd started, however, as she heard the piece of glass being removed from the window.

A second later, she heard the unmistakable sounds of someone climbing through the window, his feet touching down on the carpeted floor lightly - almost gracefully. Next, she heard what sounded like a clip being undone, and realized that he must have repelled down from the roof to get at the window, knowing their were security cameras all along the inside of the building. Everywhere, except for the upstairs bedroom and bathroom.

Ames shut her eyes briefly, thinking that if they survived this, that was something that would definitely have to change.

From underneath the edge of the bed, Ames could see the man's feet standing perfectly still. He was likely looking around the room, trying to find the boy. She wondered how long it would take him to check under the bed.

Ames carefully switched the knife to her other hand, adjusting Matty's position as carefully as she could. The movement was enough to startle the worried boy, and he let out a choked off whimper. Ames watched with widening eyes as the feet turned sharply, and then began to move.

She pushed Matty into the middle of the bed, sitting up quickly. She spotted her target immediately, seeing him raise a gun at her - a gun with a silencer. Without a second thought, Ames flung the knife at him, catching him in the shoulder. Ames cringed, intending to have hit him in the heart. Matty was full-out crying now, his small body shaking underneath the bed. She stood from the floor, hoping to rush the man before he recovered from the startling wound.

The man regained himself quickly, however, pulling the knife out of his shoulder and staring at it. With a furious look at Ames, he pulled his arm back, preparing to throw it back at her.

Ames turned just in time that the knife only sliced her upper left arm, but it would enough to make her cry out in pain.

The man brought up his gun once more, intended to finish the job.

Unfortunately for him, he was grabbed from behind. Guerrero had one arm gripped around his neck, holding him tightly, while the other shot up to knock the gun out of his hands.

Chance was right behind him, capturing the hand that came up to shake Guerrero off, and snapping it at the wrist.

The man cried out in pain, still struggling against the two of them. Ending it quickly, Guerrero slammed his head into the wall a couple of times, until he was knocked unconscious.

Ames watched the scene play out in relief, her chest heaving with erratic breaths.

"Matty!" Guerrero called out, looking for his son.

Ames dropped to her knees, covering her bloody arm with her right hand, holding her left one out to the boy. "It's okay, Matty. It's safe now."

Tears were streaming down his face, as he slowly took Ames's hand. Chance carried the thug out of the room, leaving the three of them alone.

Guerrero moved to the bed, crouching next to Ames. Once Matty was clear of the under-rail, he pulled the small boy into his arms, thankful that he was okay. He glanced over at Ames, who was holding her wounded arm, clearly in pain. Without thinking about how she would probably never live it down, Guerrero looked into her eyes and stated, "Thank you."

Ames nodded after a moment, happy that they'd come up when they did.

...

Ames sat on the kitchen counter as Chance dressed her wounds, Matty sitting on her right side, cuddled into her body. Guerrero had taken the man into a secluded room, where Matty wouldn't be able to see or hear what was going on.

"Well, you're definitely one of the team now," Chance commented to Ames. "Got the battle-scars and everything."

Ames rolled her eyes at that, but grinned in response. "Gee, thanks."

"Are you okay, Ames?" Matty asked worried about his new friend.

Ames nodded, looking down into the blue eyes of Guerrero's son. "I'll be fine," she assured him, giving him a one-armed hug with her right arm.

"Why did that man come here?" he asked her next. "What does he want?"

Ames glanced at Chance, trying not to wince as he bandaged her up. "That's what your dad is going to find out," she answered finally.

Chance smiled softly down at Matty. "Meanwhile, it looks like you've got your very own guarding angel," he said, nudging his head at Ames.

Matty grinned at her, tightening his small hands around her waist.

Down in the smallest office, where Guerrero and Winston had boxed themselves in from the men hunting down Chance's friend, Guerrero was busy bolting a chair down to the floor. He'd cleared everything else away from the man, leaving him alone in the middle of the floor, strapped to the chair.

His hands and legs were zip-tied to the chair, and then covered in duct tape. He was secured to the chair with more rope and duct tape, and a rag was stuffed into his mouth, held there by another tied around his head, so that his screams couldn't be heard outside of the room.

Guerrero grabbed a cup of water, thrusting it into the man's face.

He responded immediately, moving his head from side to side as he shook the water off of him. He noticed his predicament almost immediately, struggling against his bonds.

"You're gonna wanna save your energy," Guerrero informed him, holding up a bunch of cables in his hand. Now that the man was awake, he began placing them in various places over the man's body. With unsympathetic eyes, Guerrero attached the final cable to the man's groin.

The captive's eyes widened, realizing he was to be tortured - by Guerrero, no less.

"Now, I usually don't start as small as this," he informed the bound man, toying with the switch that he held in his hand. "But you came after my son." Guerrero turned on the switch, feeling it charge up in his hands. He set it on the second dial, knowing it would get a fair-sized rise out of the man in the chair. "So, this first one is on the house. I don't want any information for this first jolt." After another moment, he switched it to three, deciding he wanted to instill more than a little pain. "This is why you don't ever come near my family," he told him, and then pressed the button down.

Guerrero watched with cold eyes as the man's entire body spasmmed, electricity running rampant through his entire body. He finally eased up after a little bit, allowing the man to breathe. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, you're going to tell me what I want to know. Starting with who ordered the hit on my family."

The man was silent, staring at Guerrero with sweat and water dripping from his tensed forehead.

Guerrero raised an eyebrow at his defiance, and pressed down on the switch again.

A ragged cry erupted from the man's throat, but all that could be heard was a muffled moan.

Guerrero shut it off again after a moment. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

...

_End of chapter four. _

_Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	5. Chapter 5

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic._

_Chapter Five. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed this story so far, thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites._

_My updates are probably gonna start slowing down, since the weekend is over, and now I'm starting Practicum three days a week. But, don't worry, I'll still write whenever I can, and strive to get at least one chapter up per day. _

_In this one, Ames and Guerrero get to talking, and Guerrero gets some quality time with his son. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Chance had pulled some large boards out of storage, and was currently upstairs, sealing off the bedroom window. Ames and Matty were resting on the couch, Matty snuggled up in her lap, refusing to let go of her wrist, even in his sleep.

Ames watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, listening to his even breathing. _What a day,_ she thought, her heart going out to the boy. One parent gone, the other distant ... Ames could understand exactly what he was going through. Well ... not _exactly_. Her mom hadn't died, she'd split. Her father had drunk himself into an oncoming semi-truck, landing her in foster care when she was six. She didn't envy the life that the poor kid had in front of him, if some changes weren't made. Sure, Guerrero would die himself to save his kid, but he was going about it all the wrong way. He was alienating Matty, keeping him at an arm's length - and that was putting it nicely.

Ames had just closed her eyes, and was beginning to drift off to sleep when the man in question made his way into the room.

Guerrero glanced at them before moving into the kitchen. He washed his hands thoroughly, and then poured himself a drink of water. After downing it in one swig, he moved to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a glass, and then with a look over at the couch, poured another. He finally made his way over to them, setting the second glass down in front of Ames.

She was touched by the gesture, but wasn't exactly in the drinking mood. "So ... how'd it go?" she wondered, speaking in a quiet voice so as not to wake Matty up.

Guerrero took a fair-sized drink of the whiskey, enjoying the burning sensation in his throat. Better he focus on that than ... other things. "He out?" Guerrero asked, motioning to the boy sleeping in her lap.

"Like a light," Ames replied.

Guerrero nodded. "It's a work in progress," he answered her finally. "Some guys are tougher to break. Chance upstairs?"

"Yeah, he's fixing the window," Ames told him.

Guerrero set his glass down, moving away from the couch and into the locker area. He was in there for a minute, and when he came back out, he was carrying a syringe.

Ames didn't say anything, just waited for him to return. When he finally came back from where the assailant was being held, he tossed out the syringe and sat back down on the chair across from the couch, lifting his feet heavily onto the table. "What was that for?" she wondered softly.

"Knock him out," Guerrero explained, taking another drink. "Don't trust him in there by himself."

"He's tied up, though ... right?" She knew Guerrero was a professional, but even she was thinking a little less clearly, and she'd only just met Matty.

"Dude, I can think of at least three ways I would escape if he was in his place," Guerrero informed her. "So, yeah, he's knocked out. ... Not that the bastard deserves the rest."

Ames thought that he was referring to him coming after Matty, but then Guerrero's voice broke the silence one more time.

His eyes fell on Matty as he stated, "He's the one that killed her. The one that got away out the window."

Ames's eyes widened. "He told you that?"

Guerrero nodded. "He was hoping I'd kill him in anger, forestall all the torture I'd had planned. ... I'm not that stupid."

Ames nodded, absently rubbing Matty's back as he slept.

"You don't have to stay," Guerrero told her in a quiet voice.

Ames shrugged, mindful of her injured arm. "I don't mind. Don't exactly have any pressing plans at the moment." The two sat in silence for a little while longer, Ames looking up at the ceiling as she rested on the couch, Guerrero nursing the glass of scotch in his hand.

The silence was cut once more, but this time by Matty. He began squirming in Ames's arms, whimpering slightly. He was having a nightmare.

Ames tried to sooth him with light rocks and a soft voice, but as the minutes worse on, high nightmare only got worse. "You need to wake him up," Ames told Guerrero, who was setting down his nearly empty glass.

"What? Why?" Guerrero asked.

"Because he's scared, and he'll want his dad to tell him he's okay," Ames explained, trying to pull her arm out of Matty's grip so that she could pass him to Guerrero.

"Then you wake him up ... you two seem like best buds, anyway."

Ames stared at him, wondering if he'd had more than just a glass of whiskey. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't expect you to understand, JV," Guerrero told her, looking at his son pitifully before standing up. "I'm sure he'd rather you wake him up, anyway."

Ames glared back at him, standing up from the couch. It was difficult with Matty in her lap, but she managed to do it. He was still squirming, and his small body was covered in sweat from the fear of his dreams. "You know what, you can call me an amateur when it comes to all the other stuff that we do, but I happen to know what I'm talking about here. He's in a strange place, his mother has just been taken from him, and some nut job just tried to kill him. He doesn't want some girl who gave him a sucker, he wants his _dad_. Now, man up and take your son!"

Matty was beginning to stir, likely due to Ames's raised voice, and the change in altitude.

Ames knew that she'd probably pay for that comment later, that she'd been way out of line, but as long as Matty got what he needed, she didn't care.

Guerrero stared at her, unblinking, before walking towards her. In complete silence, and without looking away from her gaze, he pulled Matty out of her arms, sitting down with him on the couch. "Matthew," he spoke to the small boy, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Wake up."

Matty leaned into his father's frame, slowly coming out of his nightmare. He blinked his tired, tear-filled eyes open, seeming confused as to where he was at first. Then something seemed to click, and he started crying again. "Daddy!" he moaned out, throwing his arms around a very surprised Guerrero.

Ames took that as her cue to leave, giving them some privacy. She had a feeling that Guerrero would be more at ease with Matty if it were in private. She made her way up the stairs, seeing out the inhabitant of the upstairs rooms. "How's it going?" Ames wondered, peering into the bedroom.

"Nothing that can't be fixed," Chance replied, having finished putting the wood up. He was now cleaning up his mess, putting away the tools, and surveying his work. "So, what brings you up here?"

Ames rubbed her lips together, glancing out the door. "Guerrero and Matty are having some alone time."

Chance nodded in understanding, moving to sit down on the bed.

Ames followed him after a moment, spotting Matty's stuffed bear on the bed. "Did you know he had a kid?"

Chance didn't answer right away, but then nodded. "Yeah." He glanced over at Ames, who was fiddling with the small, white bear. "But, so did you?"

The younger woman looked over at him, surprised. "How did you know?"

Chance smiled softly. "Because I saw your face when he asked you if you'd found anything else in the briefcase," he told her. "Plus, you've been uncharacteristically nice to him since then. I knew something was up, it just didn't click until I saw how easy you got along with Matty."

Ames nodded in understanding, thinking back to her shock when she'd first discovered that picture. She looked at the window in resignation, sighing deeply. "How did he find us?" she wanted to know. "Did he follow us?"

Chance shook his head. "Doubtful. He probably would have tried something sooner if he had. You were alone with Matty while Guerrero was getting his stuff out of the house?"

"Yeah," Ames replied.

"If he was following you, then he would have just taken you and Matty out by the school, not waited until Guerrero got him back here, where he had help," Chance reasoned.

"So, then ... what was it?"

Chance was silent for a moment, lost in thought.

After a few seconds, they both looked up at each other at the same time. "Tracker!"

...

"Guerrero, get up here!" Chance hollered down the stairs, dumping the contents of Matty's duffel onto the bed.

He rushed up the stairs a few seconds later, Matty in one arm, a gun in his other hand. "What?" he wondered, looking around.

"You need to go check your car for tracking devices," Chance told him, looking through all of the items on the bed.

Guerrero let Matty down, tucking his gun into the back of his pants. "No need, dude," he replied. "I have an anti-tracking system in the El Do, prevents any signal from getting a clean lock."

Chance looked between Guerrero and Ames at that. "Which explains why he didn't attack you on the road. He couldn't get a clean fix until you got back here. After that, he waited until he thought the coast was clear."

"So, unless we find the tracker, they're just gonna keep coming for him here?" Ames wondered.

Matty clung to his father's leg in fear.

"Don't worry, little dude, no one's gonna hurt you," Guerrero told him, gripping the top of his shoulder in his hand.

They continued looking through all of the items, until Chance finally stopped, standing up from the bed. "Hang on," he said, picking up the bear that Ames had dropped back down onto the bed. His hands moved over the fabric, squishing the bear in various placed until he stopped. Chance looked back at Matty with a sympathetic expression. "Sorry, bud," he spoke, before ripping into the bear's leg.

Matty stared at him in shock, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he mourned for his wounded teddy.

Chance pulled the tracker out, staring at it.

"Okay, good," Ames said, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. "Let's trash it."

Guerrero shook his head, pulling the small device out of Chance's hands. "No, we might be able to get some info from it first."

"The longer that thing is active, and _here_, the bigger chance that more guys are gonna come for him," Chance told his friend.

"Then I'll lead them away," Guerrero bit back, moving out of the room.

Matty moved over to Chance, taking the stuffed polar bear out of his hands. He glared at the older man, cuddling the bear against his belly.

Chance looked at the boy apologetically before following Guerrero down the stairs. "Think about what you're saying, Guerrero. You'd be handing yourself up to them on a silver platter."

"Whatever works, dude," Guerrero waved off. He moved into the office, hooking the chip up to pull any useful information off of it.

"I can't let you do that," Chance informed him.

"Well, I'm not asking your permission." Guerrero completed his work quickly, pulling the chip back out and sliding it into his pocket, and then got ready the leave the office. He pushed Chance out of his way, but it was Ames who stood in front of him next. "Move," he told her.

Ames shook her head, telling herself to stand firm. "No, you're not gonna make that kid a full-fledged orphan in one day."

"Your concern is duly noted. Now, move," he stated more firmly, his hands coming up to move her out of his way.

Ames struggled as he pushed her back and out of his way, watching him with a frown as he grabbed his jacket and left the building.

Chance watched his friend leave, a frustrated expression on his face. "Great, he's gonna get himself ..." he paused, looking down at the boy who was standing a few feet away. "This isn't going to end well."

Ames brought up one fisted hand, sighing at Chance. "Yeah ... but not for Guerrero," she told him, opening her hand to show the device that she'd plucked from his pocket.

...

_End of Chapter Five. _

_Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it , hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	6. Chapter 6

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Six. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See. Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: I'm so glad you guys are still enjoying this story, thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites! _

_In this chapter, Guerrero gets a little steamed, and Ames finds herself in trouble. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Guerrero finished deactivating the anti-tracking system on his El Do, put his dash back together, and then got ready to leave the parking area. He thought back to his son upstairs in the office, and paused, nearly turning back. Ames was right ... he didn't want to make his son an orphan. But, he couldn't just lead them right to his son, and he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. He needed to take the fight to them, and end this once and for all.

Setting his jaw, Guerrero pushed his hand into his front pocket to pull the tracker out.

It wasn't there.

Guerrero's eyes widened, digging a little further into his pocket, but it was nowhere to be found. He had a momentary panic, but then his eyes narrowed and his body slackened. "Ames," he growled, turning on his heels and stalking his way back up the to the elevator quickly.

Ames waited until the doors were sealed shut before stepping out from the stairwell, moving quickly to her own vehicle.

Chance's voice rang in her ear as she moved, the earwig firmly in place. "Okay, Ames, you don't have a lot of time. Get moving."

"I'm going, I'm going," she replied with a huff, hopping into the driver's seat and starting the car.

"Don't try to be a hero," he added for the second time since she'd slipped the device out of Guerrero's pocket. "Just get a good distance away, drop the tracker, and then get the hell out of there."

"Trust me, not looking to be a hero," Ames assured him. She peeled out of the parking area, driving quickly away from the building. The city traffic was much quieter at three o'clock in the morning, but there were still a few cars on the road, so she had to be careful.

"You know he's gonna be pissed," Chance reminded her.

"Understatement," Ames muttered, weaving around a couple cars on the street.

She drove in silence for a short while before she heard a new voice in her ear. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Ames sighed, wondering if removing the COMM from her ear would make the situation worse. "You can yell at me when I come back, Guerrero."

"_If_ you come back," he shot back. She could picture him leaned over the table, gripping it firmly with his hands and shouting into the Communicator. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

Ames opened her mouth to respond, but held herself back. She didn't know how he would react to her saying, 'Better me than you'. Plus, she had no intentions of getting caught or killed. "Look, I'll be alright. I'll just ditch the tracker in some out of the way neighborhood - enough to make it look like a safe house - and then I'll get out of there." She headed towards a new housing district that was still under construction, angling her car towards the center of the new community.

She pulled the car to a stop, looking down at the seat beside her, where the gun she'd brought rested. Sighing, she picked it up and opened the door of the car.

"Hurry it up, Ames," Guerrero's voice came through the earwig. "Just plant the tracker and get out."

"I'm on it," she assured him, making her way towards the security gates that the construction company had put up. She maneuvered them easily, stalking her way through the unfinished buildings. Chance told her that Guerrero was hacking into the nearest security cameras to make sure there was no one following her. Ames found a building that looked secure enough to pass for a hideout, and then made her way inside, looking around the dark area to make sure that no one had spotted her.

Once she was certain that she was alone, Ames made her way into the building, climbing down into the basement. She looked around for a good place to hide the tracker, so that it wouldn't be so obvious that it was a dump job.

"Pick up the pace, Ames," Chance's voice echoed in her ear.

She spotted some unfinished drywall along the far wall, so she moved towards it, dropping the tracker into the wall. "Tracker's in place," she spoke into the earwig, leaving the connection open so that she could talk freely on the way back. She pulled the gun out of her jeans, holding it in both hands.

"Okay, now get the hell out of there," Guerrero told her.

Ames agreed, making her way quickly out of the house. She was halfway across the vacant complex when she heard him again, though.

"We got problems," Guerrero spoke in a hurried voice. "Two black SUVs just ran through two red lights, headed in your direction."

Ames picked up the pace, making a beeline for her car. "I can make it."

"Leave the car, Ames, just find some where to hide out," Chance told her. "We can get to you."

Ames shook her head, adrenaline pumping as she ran for her car. "No, I can do it. If I can get in my car, I can out-drive them."

"Dammit, Ames, for once would you just shut up and listen?" Guerrero demanded.

Ames ignored him, hopping the security fence. She moved her right hand to her pocket, digging out her car keys. She could hear what sounded like fast-approaching vehicles from the West, and she jumped into her car. As soon as the engine roared to life, she threw the car into reverse, peeling out of the lot. Not bother to look for cars or pedestrians, Ames sped onto the road.

"They're right behind you, Ames," Chance informed her.

A look in the rearview mirror confirmed that, and Ames cussed aloud.

"I'm on my way to you, Ames, just try to lead them in a circle," Chance told her, the huffing of his voice telling her that he was running.

"You got it," Ames replied, switching gears and pressing down with her foot.

The three cars raced through the relatively quiet streets of San Francisco, not so much as slowing down for any red lights.

Ames hung a hard right, her back tires skidding slightly as she made the turn, but she kept the car under control.

"Alright, Ames, I'm just under ten minutes away," Chance told her through the earwig. "Try to circle back to the construction area, see if there's anything you can use for cover."

Ames checked her mirror, judging how far behind her they were. A second later, her back window shattered. "They're shooting!" she informed them, nearly losing control of the car as she swerved.

"Son of a -" Guerrero's voice sounded in her ear. "I've just been kicked out of the system. I don't have eyes on Ames," he told Chance in a frustrated voice.

"Ames, where are you?" Chance needed to know.

Ames looked all around her while trying to avoid their bullets. "Uh ... just passed Jameson and Third, going South," she informed him. Another bullet shot off her driver's side mirror, and Ames's eyes widened. "Okay, pretty soon I'm not gonna have enough car left to drive!"

"I told you, you never should have done something so stupid!" Guerrero snapped.

"Not really helping at the moment!" Ames bit back, turning the wheel sharply. "Just turned East on Hamilton," she relayed to Chance. More bullets fired all around her, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of her back tires blowing out. "They just shot out my tires!" She tried to hold on, but at the speeds they were traveling, the blown tires sent the car in a uncontrollable skid. The only thing that stopped her from flipping over was the parked car that she rammed into.

"Ames, get out of there!" Guerrero told her, still trying to hack back into the system to get a beat on her location.

"I'm pinned," she replied, her leg trapped. The door had pushed in at the contact, locking her in her seat. Without help, she wouldn't make it out of there. She struggled helplessly, and then the door opened up. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the barrel of a gun being pointed in her face.

...

Ames came to suddenly, shaking her head from side to side as she tried to escape the splashing water.

"Wake-up time, bitch," a voice snarled at her.

Ames blinked the water out of her eyes, staring all around her. She was in a dark room, with only one dim light hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the large room. She was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, with at least two men standing in front of her. She pulled at her hands, testing the durability of her bonds. She could feel the cool of steel handcuffs pressing into her skin, and it appeared as though the shackles were made to fit the chair. Her legs were secured to the front legs of the chair with tape, preventing her from getting any real leverage to move.

"Where is he?" the thug who'd thrown the water into her face asked, leering at her.

"Easy now, Boxer," the second man spoke, stepping forward. "Let's give her a moment to get her bearings. I'm sure she's very confused by all this unpleasantness."

Ames focused her attention on him, looking away from the more menacing looking 'Boxer'. She could barely make out his eyes in the poorly lit room, but she tried her best to stare sarcastically into them. "So, you're the 'good cop', then?"

He smiled softly down at her - a passively wolfish grin that told her he was restraining himself. "I'm sorry to inform you that we are _not_ the police."

Ames snorted, leaning back in the chair as much as she could. "Yeah, I figured that from the co-ed shower," she replied, nudging her chin out towards the first man, who was still holding the empty bucket of water in his hand.

"Don't react to my voice," Chance's voice rang quietly in her ear. "Ask them where you are."

Ames blinked, realizing that the men who'd captured her hadn't removed her earwig. With her hair down, they must not have noticed it. "Where am I?" she asked the men, her eyes moving back and forth between them.

"That isn't important at the moment," the 'good cop' answered, clasping his hands together in front of him. "First, we need to have a little chat about your good friend - Guerrero."

Ames flicked her damp hair over her shoulder, wary of the small communicator in her ear. "I'm sorry, who?"

In a flash, Boxer stepped forward and whipped the back of his hand across her unprotected cheek.

"Lies upset my friend, here," the other explained. "So, let's try this again. We know that you've had contact with Mr. Guerrero in the last twenty-four hours. Tell us where to find him, and you will be released."

"He'll kill you as soon as he gets what he wants from you, Ames," Chance told her.

Ames glared between the two men in front of her, her eyes landing on Boxer's menacing hand, feeling the painful pin-pricks in her cheek from when he'd struck her. "Well, I guess I'd better get comfortable, then," Ames spoke. "'Cause I got no idea who the hell you're talking about."

The next smack hurt just as much as the first one, and this time her lip split from the impact against her teeth.

With no foreseeable end in sight, Ames turned her head back towards them, spitting out the blood that had accumulated in her mouth.

...

Guerrero had managed to get Matty back to sleep, assuring him that they would bring Ames back soon. He was now standing with Chance in the office, trying to figure out where they could have taken Ames.

"Think we should call Winston back in?" Chance asked him.

Guerrero checked his watch. "He'll be up in 3 hours anyway. Let him sleep, or he'll be useless."

Chance didn't tell Guerrero that the same could be said for them. He looked out at Matty, asleep on the couch. "We need to start thinking about moving him to a safe house," he told his friend.

"He's safest with me," Guerrero replied.

Chance nodded. "Then, maybe the both of you -"

"I'm seeing this through, Chance," Guerrero cut him off, the look in his eyes leaving no room for argument. "I got her into this mess, I'll get her out of it." He glanced towards the room that his son's would-be assassin was bound in, hardening his gaze. "One way or another, they're all gonna die."

...

_End of Chapter Six. _

_Sorry for the wait, I meant to get this up last night, but I was too tired. _

_Well, what did you guys think of this one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	7. Chapter 7

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Seven. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: Thanks for the great reviews on this story so far, I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. _

_In this one, Ames's threshold is tested, and Guerrero's methods get a little more intense to find her location, and the men behind the whole ordeal. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Guerrero had to pull the COMM device out of his ear when he went into the isolated room, needing to be able to focus on the task at hand. He couldn't do that, and listen to what was going on wherever Ames had been taken to.

He jolted the man awake with a localized electric charge, placing one of his tasers against the man's thigh. "Good morning," he spoke, after the man had calmed down. "Sleep well?"

The man glared back at him, trying not to let on that the aftershocks from the taser were still coursing through his body.

"So, I have some information that I need, and you're going to give it to me," he informed the man. "That part isn't up for discussion, it's an inevitability. You get to decide how long you want this interrogation to last before you give me that information. I will admit, I'm on a bit of a schedule, so my timeline is going to have to move up here. Unfortunately for you, that means less breaking in time." Guerrero sighed, pulling a short, metal rod with a hooked end out of his pocket. "So, some of your buddies have a friend of mine. You're going to tell me where they would have taken her." Guerrero paused, glancing down at him. "I don't suppose you want to bring this whole thing to an end, and just tell me now? Shake things up a bit?"

The man's glare told him otherwise.

"Well, just thought I'd ask. Alright, then. How many things do you think you use your pectoral muscles for?" he wondered, leaning forward and dragging the hook across the startled man's chest.

...

Ilsa was sitting on the couch with a still-sleeping Matty, while Winston and Chance were going over the information they'd pulled off the tracking device. She glanced towards the back room every so often, knowing exactly what was going on in there. She wasn't at all comfortable with what Guerrero was doing to the man, but she was also concerned about Ames's fate. She was fiercely loyal, but there was only so much torture anyone could take before they eventually gave up the information their captors wanted. That's what Guerrero was banking on, after all. Ilsa sighed, looking down at the small boy beside her. He'd evidently had quite the rough night, and was still asleep at 8 o'clock in the morning. He would probably sleep an hour or so more, if he wasn't interrupted.

Her sympathy for the small boy clutched at her heart, knowing what it was like to lose a loved one.

In the office, Winston was taking the communicator out of his own ear, unable to listen anymore, even though he'd only had it in for fifteen minutes or so. "Hang in there, kid," he spoke to her before pulling it out completely.

"We just need a place to start," Chance told him, glancing over their data. "What's the range on these things, anyway? Can't we narrow down a location from that?"

Winston shook his head. "Mrs. Pucci's money enabled us to get top-of-the-line gear. The range on these COMMs pretty much covers the whole city. Ironically, if we'd stuck with the old gear, it might have made tracking her easier."

Chance huffed, pausing for a moment as Ames's screams quieted down.

"What is it?" Winston wondered, eyeing Chance's expression.

"I think they may have finally taken a break," Chance told him, waiting another moment to be sure. When he couldn't hear anything from Ames, or anyone else in the room, he clicked on his communicator, breaking the silence. "Ames?"

Nothing.

"Ames, cough if you're okay," he told her.

"Or I could just say, 'I'm okay'," Ames replied in a weak voice.

Chance sighed in relief. "Where did they go?"

Ames was silent for a moment, but then answered, "Went out of the room somewhere. There's at least one door in front of me, can't make out much else."

Chance nodded, sitting down slowly. "Do you know where you are?"

"No," she told him.

"Do you remember anything after the crash?" he asked next.

Ames actually did cough that time, sounding as though she were spitting out blood at the same time. "No, they must have knocked me out," she finally responded.

Winston replaced his earwig, tapping it on. "Ames, it's Winston. How you holding up?"

Her sighing voice could be heard over the communicator. "Well, I'm cuffed to chair in the middle of a dark, stinky room. I don't have anything to pick the lock with, it's getting kind of chilly in here since they cut my clothes off, and I really have to pee," she answered, that air of cockiness still about her, despite the pain she was obviously in. "How about you?"

Winston rolled his eyes at that, chuckling for her benefit. "Oh, I've been better." He was silent for a moment, looking down at Chance. "We're gonna get you out of this," he promised her.

"Right," Ames replied, half-believing him.

"Look, right now you just need to focus on staying calm," Chance interrupted. "Just take yourself -"

"To a different place," Ames finished for him. "I know. Guerrero's gone over all this with me before."

Winston looked surprised, expecting the same reaction from Chance, only it wasn't surprise or confusion that was on Chance's face.

"Just ... keep breathing," he told her.

Ames said she would, and then quieted down to try and get herself back under control. She was happy that they could only hear her, and not see her.

Winston turned off his communicator, motioning for Chance to do the same. "He's been torturing her?"

"Preparing her," Chance corrected in a low voice.

"That's one hell of a fine line," Winston argued, not so concerned about his voice. "How long?"

Chance sighed at the larger man, standing up from his seat. "You knew that we were training her, Winston."

"Yeah, to fight, not to withstand a bunch of deranged men with sadistic streaks!"

"You'd rather she go into this unprepared?" Chance fought back.

"I'd rather she not be in this situation at all!" Winston yelled.

Outside the office, Matty jolted up from where he lay, woken by the sounds of their argument.

"Could you please keep your voices down?" Ilsa admonished, placing a comforting hand on the boy's arm.

Chance nodded apologetically, looking at the boy before turning back to the desk. He flipped his communicator back on, instructing Ames to tell him everything that she could see about the room she was in.

...

Guerrero wiped his hands clean, staring at them with a disinterested look on his face. The man in front of him was whimpering quietly, the gag in his mouth preventing him from making much more noise than that.

Guerrero pushed his tools aside for the moment, taking a drink of water out of a bottle he'd brought with him. "So ... you ready to talk yet?" he wondered after taking a good, long drink. They'd been going at this for over an hour.

The guy was silent for a long time, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven waves.

Guerrero sighed, replacing the cap on his water bottle and reaching for the nail gun he'd brought in. Without waiting a beat, he pointed it at his captive's foot, shooting a nail through it and into the floor.

He screamed into his gag, his eyes filling with pain-induced tears.

Guerrero took a step towards him, reaching his booted foot to step down on the nail, wiggling it around a bit. After listening to the guy scream for another minute or so, he pulled his foot back. "So ... you ready to tell me what I want to know?"

His captive sucked in air heavily through his nostrils, lifting his head with great effort. With a defeated look in his eyes, he nodded his head.

"Good," Guerrero replied, setting the nail gun back down on the table behind him. "If you scream, I'll shoot the other foot," he warned him, before reaching forward to remove the gag.

...

_End of Chapter Seven. _

_Sorry that this one's kind of short, it's been a long day. _

_Well, what did you guys think of this one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	8. Chapter 8

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Eight. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: Thanks for all the awesome reviews/favorites/alerts so far! Thanks to everyone who sent me private messages to tell me how much they love my writing and to request some stories, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my Human Target stories! I'll try to get to some of the requests soon. _

_In this chapter, Guerrero and Ames get some answers, but everything isn't as it seems. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Ames held back her shivers, trying not to let on how cold and uncomfortable she really was. Better to be stubborn and proud than appear weak, especially in front of men like her captors. She tried to breathe evenly, letting her mind drift out of her body, leaving the situation she was in far behind. She took herself back to the first time she and Brody had snuck out together.

Their foster father had been a social drinker, and that night had been one of his more rowdy parties. the two of them had snuck out of the basement window, wandering away from the unwelcoming home to the nearest park. Ames took herself back to that night, remembering the wide grin on Brody's face as he hung upside down on the monkey bars. She wasn't sitting in a depressing room, tied naked to a chair. She was a carefree kid again, playing with her best friend on a beautiful, starry night.

The door of her "cell" opened once more, pulling her from her thoughts. The more composed and refined of the two men pulled a chair out, setting it down in front of her chair and sitting down so that he was facing her. He was carrying a plate of warm food in his hands.

Ames willed her stomach not to rumble, trying to remember what she'd had for lunch the previous day. She definitely hadn't eaten since she'd been captured.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, setting the plate delicately in his lap.

"Just ducky, you?" Ames replied. She'd never felt more exposed, but she tried to hide her discomfort.

"I've had better days," he confessed. With a sigh, he moved his chair forwards, scooping up a bit of eggs with the plastic fork he'd brought with him. "I must confess, I've been terribly rude," he told her, bringing the full fork to her lips.

Ames eyed the food suspiciously.

He pursed his lips in response, a tight grin forming on his face. ''I thought you might feel that way." Pulling out a second fork from his pocket, he slid a taste into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it as though he were savoring the bite. "Now, your turn," he informed her, pressing the first fork against her lips again.

Ames hesitated for a moment, but her hunger won out in the end, and she accepted the foot into her mouth.

"I think that we got off on the wrong foot," he told her while she chewed her eggs. "But, I'm a man who believes in second chances. I say we start over."

Chance's voice slithered into her ear, nearly startling her. "This could be a golden opportunity, Ames," he told her. "If he thinks that you're not going to get out of there anyway, he may not care about giving you real information. Try to keep him talking," Chance finished.

Ames brushed her eyes over the man's form, studying him. "What did you have in mind?"

He smiled at her, his perfectly straight teeth shining out at her. "Well, why don't we start with our names; get properly introduced. I'm Sanderson, what's your name?"

Before Chance could tell her to provide him with a fake name, Ames replied, "Izzie."

"Short for Isobel?" Sanderson wondered.

Ames nodded silently.

"I can see why, in our line of work, you'd prefer to go by Izzie," Sanderson continued, bringing another bite up to her lips. "It definitely gives a more masculine undertone. Probably gets you a bit more respect."

Ames shrugged, munching on a piece of bacon.

They continued that way for a while longer, until all the food on the plate had been eaten. On the last bite, Ames 'accidentally' bit off one of the fork tines, acting as thought she was choking on it. After almost a minute, she eased up, pretending that she'd swallowed it in her choking fit.

"So," she began after he'd set down the plate, looking as though he'd be there for a while, "what do you want with Guerrero?"

Sanderson allowed a soft smile to settle over his face, anticipating that he was finally getting somewhere. "Well, apparently he took something very important from my employer."

"Get him to talk more about the employer," Chance told her.

Ames bit back the urge to roll her eyes, wishing he would give her a bit more credit. "Someone hired you to come after him? And here I thought you were the big man in charge."

"We all have our roles to play," he replied evenly.

"Hey, just 'cause I'm all naked here, doesn't mean I wanna do some role-playing with you," Ames told him. "I mean, unless you're into bondage, of course." She grinned back at him seductively. "'Cause I wouldn't mind tying you up."

He pursed his lips at that comment, his eyes sliding over her body.

Ames swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat. "So, what did Guerrero take that was so important?"

"Not something," he corrected. "Someone." Sanderson stood up from his seat, sliding off his suit jacket. He began undoing the buttons on his shirt, leering down at Ames.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, sitting flat against the back of the wooden chair.

Sanderson leaned forward, cupping her cheek gently. His hand stroked her hair away from her neck, and then he traced the outside of her ear with two fingers. Before Ames could stop him, his finger dipped into her ear, pulling the COMM out. Sanderson brought it to his lips, his eyes never breaking contact with Ames's surprised ones. "Your friend is located in the Warehouse district, in the old Ben Chu factory. Tell Guerrero that everything that's about to happen to her ... it's all his fault." With that, he threw the earwig on the floor, and approached the defenseless, bound woman, intent on making the best of his situation.

...

S.W.A.T. approached the building, surrounding it from all angles. Ilsa and Winston were waiting behind the barricade, worried expressions on their faces. It had taken nearly fifteen to call S.W.A.T. in and get them down here. They didn't want to know what horrors could have been done to Ames in that time.

Chance was on the frontlines with S.W.A.T., not willing to stand by and wait to see what they had found. They cleared the rooms one at a time, but found no one. It made sense ... after giving up the location, they would have gotten out of there as soon as possible.

They were taunting Guerrero.

Chance didn't know what this whole thing was about, or who Guerrero had 'taken'. He hadn't told his friend about the conversation Ames had had with her captor, just told him that they got a lead on her location. Someone needed to stay back with Matty and the hostage, and since Guerrero was more capable of taking care of both of them, he was left behind. He hadn't argued too much, which was surprising in itself.

Chance and two other S.W.A.T. guys had branched off to search their own area, and were now standing in front of a closed door. With a glance to the guys with him, he reached for the door, pulling it open. They rushed in, Chance right behind them, guns drawn.

"Put it on the ground!" they shouted, pointing their guns at the figure crouched against the wall.

Chance moved around them, his own gun drawn. After seeing who it was, however, he called them off. "She's with me," he told him, lowering his gun.

Ames was pressed against the far wall, gun pointed at a man who was crumpled in the middle of the floor. She was trying to hide her nakedness, her knees folded up to her chest, with on arm wrapped her around legs. The other was holding a handgun, pointed at the unconscious or dead man.

"Ames, you okay?" Chance asked, walking over to her slowly.

She nodded her head slowly, clearly shaken up.

Chance undid his vest, removing it and the shirt he was wearing underneath. He handed the garment to her, easing the gun out of her hand.

She slid the shirt onto her body, covering herself immediately and doing up the buttons. It was long enough that it covered down to her thighs, so Ames stood up to do the rest of the buttons.

Convinced that she was okay, Chance walked into the center of the room, feeling the guns of the S.W.A.T. team behind him trained on the man who hadn't yet moved. He noticed the broken chair pieces, and the blood, wondering what had happened. When he finally reached the man's side, he pulled his gun back out, pushing him onto his back with a kick of his foot.

The man had been shot in the chest, but that wasn't the first thing that he noticed. No, it was the small, white piece of plastic sticking out of his eye that caught his attention.

Chance searched the body, finding a phone in his pocket. He took that, and then moved towards Ames. "Come on, let's go home," he told her, easing an arm around her back to lead her out of the room.

Ames nodded silently, following him out.

...

They wanted to have her checked for signs of sexual assault, but Ames told them that wasn't necessary. It hadn't gotten that far. She told them what happened after that, sitting on the edge of the ambulance with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

He'd come for her after he'd dropped the earwig on the ground, invading her personal space. Ames had leaned her head back as far as she could, warning him to stay back. He'd only chuckled at her, and kept coming. When he was close enough to her, Ames had moved the piece of fork onto the center of her tongue, inhaling once through her nose before shooting it rapidly out of her mouth, directly into his eye. When he'd roared in pain, Ames had thrown a head butt at him, knocking him back. The chair had weakened from all the times that the brute had knocked her backwards with his blows, so Ames had used that to her advantage, moving the chair back and forth until it snapped. Chair legs had still been strapped to her legs with tape, and the arms of the chair still hung from the shackles, but she'd been freed. While he was still writhing in agony, she'd pulled the gun out of his holster and shot him with it. The whole thing felt as though it had been over in seconds, but Ames could remember each and every moment of it. She told them how she'd found the keys and freed her hands, and then peeled the packing tape off of her legs, and then retreated as far away from the man as possible, just in case he hadn't really been dead.

That was when they had come in.

Ames nursed the hot chocolate she'd been given, trying not to think of what had almost happened to her. The police officer who'd taken her statement assured her that she wouldn't be facing any charges, but that he would want to get in touch with her again. She gave him her information, and then asked Ilsa to take her to get cleaned up, and take her to get some of her own clothes.

Chance agreed to let her go, knowing how shaken up she was, but insisted that he drive them wherever they were going, not wanting to let either woman out of his sight.

They agreed, and were sitting together in the back of his SUV. Ilsa had loaned Winston her driver, allowing him to ride back in the car after sorting out the mess at the warehouse.

"How are you feeling?" Ilsa asked her, wincing slightly at the bruises on Ames's face.

"I've been better," she told her boss honestly. "But, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Ames nodded. "Yeah, I just ... need a hot bath, and my own clothes. I'll be fine."

Ilsa nodded, knowing that 'fine' meant anything but that. But, she knew that Ames would come to her - or one of the other members of the team - when she was ready to talk.

Ames let her mind drift to Guerrero, wondering who he could have "taken" that would have started this whole thing, and why they wanted Matty dead because of it.

...

_End of Chapter Eight. _

_Well, what did you guys think of this one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


	9. Chapter 9

_..._

_An Ames/Guerrero fic. _

_Chapter Nine. _

_..._

_Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. _

_..._

_A/N: Thanks for the great reviews so far, you guys rock! _

_In this one, Winston and Ilsa have something to protest about, and Ames and Matty and reunited. _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

...

Ames showered, got a change of clothes, and set about applying the appropriate amount of make-up, so that her bruised face was less distorted. She didn't want to scare Matty when she saw him again, and she didn't want Guerrero feeling sorry for her - not that he would ever voice such thoughts. Her cut lip and eyebrow, she could do nothing about, but for the most part, she looked okay. Most of the swelling had gone down under the spray of the cold water in her shower. In a week, the bruises would mostly be faded away, so she wouldn't have to deal with the constant reminder of what could have happened. The slices on the rest of her body, however, would last much longer.

Chance drove the three of them back to the office, an hour or so having passed since they'd found her in the abandoned warehouse.

The ride up the elevator was dreadfully silent, the dinging sound that alerted them to their arrival on the requested floor shocking her. Seconds after she stepped out of the open doors, she was taken out at the waist.

"You're back!" Matty exclaimed happily, laying on top of her where he'd knocked her onto the floor.

Ames hid her wince with a smile, ruffling the boy's hair. "I missed you too, kiddo." It had been nearly 24 hours since she'd left the office, though it felt much longer. She allowed Matty to hold her on the ground for a while, not letting him know that he was causing her pain.

"Will you do the bubbles again?" he asked her, batting his long lashes innocently at her.

Ames smiled softly. "Sure. Have you had supper yet?"

Matty looked over at Ilsa, who had made his supper before leaving with the others to find Ames. "She put weird stuff in it."

Ilsa frowned, wondering what could have been unappealing about her tuna casserole.

"Well, how about I whip you up some macaroni and hot dogs, and then we'll do the bath later?" Ames suggested, winking at Ilsa.

"Okay!" Matty agreed.

"Give her some air, Matthew," Guerrero spoke, making his way out of the back room.

Matty acquiesced immediately, standing up on his own feet. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, though he was having a hard time concealing his grin.

Ames shrugged, trying not to let on how much getting up would hurt. "No biggie."

Guerrero came to a stop in front of her, wiping his hands on a towel. He gripped the material in his left hand, and after a moment, he held his right hand out to her.

Ames slowly raised her arm up, thankful that she'd chosen to wear a long-sleeve shirt - otherwise they would all see her many superficial wounds. She allowed Guerrero to clasp her hand in his, and then stood slowly with his help. When he didn't remove his hand right away, Ames met his eyes, seeing something in there that wasn't Guerrero's usual sarcastic, annoyed expression. She parted her lips, inhaling a small breath before she spoke. "Thank you," she told him.

That seemed to snap Guerrero out of whatever trance he'd been in, and he dropped her hand almost immediately. "Good to have you back," he stated flippantly, looking down at Matty. "Why don't you go clean up your toys in the living room before supper?"

Matty nodded, smiling once more at Ames before skipping into the other room.

Before Ames could say anything else to Guerrero, he turned his attention back to her. "Think you can keep him busy for a bit? I have a bit of a mess that I need to clean up in the back room."

Ames nodded, understanding what he meant. "Sure."

Guerrero nodded his thanks, turning to leave.

"Hang on a second, what do you mean by 'mess'?" Winston asked, eyeing Guerrero.

"Dude, do you need me to spell it out for you?" Guerrero wondered.

Ilsa stepped in. "Do you mean to tell us that the man you held captive in that back room is no longer among the living?" She spoke in a quiet, but no less affronted voice.

Guerrero shrugged, "I wouldn't use that many words, but yeah."

"That's just great," Winston responded, shaking his head. "Now you've made us all accessories to murder."

"This is completely unacceptable," Ilsa agreed. "That man had rights. Now, I may have kept silent while you were ... retrieving your information," she told him. "But this is ... well, it's murder!"

"Are you kidding me?" Guerrero asked her, stepping into her space. "That man murdered the mother of the my child in cold blood. He waited until I got there to do it, so that I would know that I couldn't save her. Then he came here and tried to _kill my son_!" Guerrero snapped, almost raising his voice a little too loudly. "There's not going to be any trial, there's not going to be any arrests made. These bastards want me and my son dead, and the only way that isn't going to happen is if I kill them first. You have a problem with that, there's the door. You try and stop me, and it'll be the last thing you do," he finished, glaring into her eyes.

Ilsa looked away after a minute, turning her attention to Chance. "Mr. Chance, surely you can explain to him the problem with this? Knock some sense into him?"

Chance sighed, looking between Guerrero and Ilsa. His eyes flickered to Ames, and the reason why she had to wear the clothing that covered her entire body, and the caked-on makeup to cover her battered face. Then he looked at Matty, who had gotten distracted from picking up his toys, and was now riding his train set along the back of the couch. Matty, who would never again see his mother's face smiling down at him. Chance shook his head, turning back to meet Ilsa's eyes. "Sorry," he told her. "I'm with Guerrero on this one."

"Not that you asked, but I gotta side with them, too," Ames added. "These guys won't stop until they're dead."

Ilsa looked at Winston, who appeared to be just as uncomfortable as she was, though he was less vocal about it. "I'm going out to get some air," she stated finally. "Then I believe my sister-in-law wanted to fly over to Asia to meet with members of one of our subsidiaries." She met Guerrero's eyes defiantly. "See that this is dealt with by the time I return." Guerrero made no move to acknowledge her, so Ilsa moved back into the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor, and then pulling her cell phone out to call her driver.

Winston only shook his head, moving back into the office to return to his notes.

Chance clapped a hand on Guerrero's shoulder, meeting the soft, blue eyes of his oldest friend.

Guerrero thanked him silently for sticking by him, not needing any words to convey his gratitude.

Chance nodded once, and then followed Winston into the office.

Ames and Guerrero were left standing by themselves in the foyer. "Need any help?" Ames asked him, motioning to the back room.

Guerrero shook his head. "Just watch Matty."

Ames nodded her assent, walking past him to go into the kitchen and start making dinner. She had only gone three steps before Guerrero caught her by the tip of her elbow, stopping her from passing him.

His eyes burned into hers, and he looked as though he wanted to say something. Silence echoed around them for several seconds, neither one of them moving so much as an inch.

Was he going to ask her what she'd found out? Berate her for taking off like she had? Punish her for picking his pocket? Thank her again, now that the others were gone? Ames didn't know what he wanted, but she couldn't bring herself to ask him.

Finally, Guerrero spoke in a soft voice. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

Ames blinked, definitely not expecting that. He'd never shown any real concern for her, and any time she hurt herself in one of their training sessions, he always just told her to shake it off. Pain was a part of life, he always said, especially in the world that they lived in. Was it different because she'd done it to protect him and Matty? Did he feel guilty? She realized that he was waiting for an answer, and shakily found her voice again. "I'll be fine."

Guerrero nodded. Glancing over at Matty, he still didn't release her elbow. "Come see me after he's in bed," he told her.

Ames could only nod silently.

Guerrero spared her one last look, and then moved into the kitchen. He grabbed a couple garbage bags and some spray-cleaners before making his way back to the other room.

Ames shook herself out of her stupor, asking Matty if he wanted shredded cheese in his macaroni.

...

"How can you seriously be okay with this?" Winston wanted to know.

He and Chance were still in the office, going over the information that they'd retrieved from the crime scenes.

Ames and Matty were up in the bathroom, and Guerrero was in the process of scrubbing out the back room, leaving the two of them alone in the office.

"I never said I was okay with it, Winston," Chance replied. "But, Guerrero's not wrong. Even if we do arrest whoever is responsible for this, they'll just hire someone else from prison to finish the job. There's no other way to end this."

"We could send Matty into hiding," Winston offered. "The both of them."

"I already suggested it. Guerrero wants this over, now, and I'm inclined to agree with him," Chance told the bigger man. "It's his family, his call."

Winston shook his head, looking back down at information they'd gathered from the warehouse. He was silent for a moment, double-checking his work. "Whoa ... you might wanna take a look at this," he told his partner.

...

Ames got Matty out of the bath and in bed, sitting next to him on the bed. He wanted a story, so she recited one that she and Brody used to read when they were kids. Before long, the little guy was fast asleep. She turned on the baby monitor that they'd set up next to his bed, and then made her way into the bathroom.

After making sure that the door was locked securely, Ames removed her shirt to check her wounds. Strips of gauze covered almost her entire body, covering up numerous cuts - some deep, some shallow. She had a fair-sized bruise on her stomach from where the large brute of a man had slammed his fist in, winding her. She was lucky he hadn't cracked or broken any bones during his torturous beating.

Ames sighed, turning to check the ones on her back. Satisfied that none of the stitches had opened, she repeated the process with her legs, and then slid her clothing back on. She did a quick touch-up on her makeup, and then made her way out of the bathroom and back down the steps.

Winston and Chance were still hard at work in the office, so Ames grabbed a bowl from the kitchen, filled it up with some leftovers and heated it up. Once it was finished, she made her way to the back room, adhering to Guerrero's request that she come find him. She thought about knocking, but he hadn't been shy about what he was doing in there, so she didn't think he had anything to hide.

"I brought you some supper," she told him as she walked in, seeing him on his hands and knees, scrubbing at various red spots on the floor. The man's body was nowhere to be found, but there were a couple suspicious-looking garbage bags in the corner. Ames didn't want to know how he'd split the body in half, just set the bowl on the empty desk by the wall.

"Thanks," he replied, continuing his rigorous work.

"Did you want me to come back, or -"

"Just give a minute," he told her.

Ames waited patiently by the door for him to finish.

He got most of the red off with the cleaner he'd used, and then sprayed the floor down with bleach. Then he moved the bags of body parts to the door.

"How are you going to get rid of that?" Ames wanted to know.

Guerrero answered simply, "I know a guy with access to an incinerator." He picked up the bowl of macaroni and hot dogs, scooping up a bite as though they weren't just discussing dismembered-body disposal.

"So, I guess he told you what you wanted to know?" Ames wondered.

Guerrero nodded, taking another bite of the macaroni. He didn't expand on that, just sat on the edge of the desk and ate his supper. When he was finally finished, he set down the bowl and turned to Ames. "How bad is it?" he wanted to know, motioning to her body.

Ames swallowed the saliva that had built up in her mouth, surprised at the sudden question. "I've had worse."

"I doubt it," Guerrero replied. "Let me see."

Ames wasn't exactly a shy person, but after the events of the last 24 hours, she was a bit uneasy about removing her clothing. "It's fine."

"Until I see for myself, I don't know that," he informed her, stepping closer to her. "This was my fault, Ames ... you never should have been in that car. I got you into this." He sighed, looking down at her shirt. "Now, take it off, or I will."

Ames sighed, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. It was the closest he'd ever come to voicing real concern for her well-being, and she didn't want to pass that opportunity up. "Fine," she stated, closing the door before doing anything else. The smell of bleach was strong in the room, and she focused on that instead of what she was doing. She pulled her arms out of her shirt slowly, careful not to catch her bandages on the fabric. Then she carefully pulled the shirt up and over her head. She left her bra on, and moved to the button on her pants. It took a little more work to get them off, and her finesse wasn't what it normally was, but eventually she was standing before him in her underwear, waiting for him to say something.

Guerrero stared at her form, at the many covered-up abrasions on her young body, imagining everything that they'd done to her. They weren't as experienced as he was, he noted, but the damage they'd done was real. She would have a decent collection of scars when the bandages came off. He moved around her body, pulling her hair softly over her shoulder to be sure that he had access to all of her wounds. "Did they run a rape kit?" Guerrero asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Ames shook her head nervously. "There was no need."

Guerrero nodded. "Good." He studied her for a few more minutes, before he finally met her eyes. "Sit on the desk."

Ames opened her mouth to ask him why, but thought better of it. Instead, she backed up a couple steps and sat down, making sure that his empty bowl was out of the way. She had no idea what he had in store for her, but her mouth suddenly felt as though she'd been chewing on cotton balls. She would kill for a drink of water.

Guerrero pulled a tin out of his bag, opening it up as he made his way over to her. Without asking, he set it down beside her and began removing one of her bandages: the one by her collar bone.

"What are you doing?" Ames asked him, finally finding her voice again.

"You're in pain," he told her simply. "You're trying to hide it, and you're doing an okay job of it, but I'm not blind," he answered, easing the last of the gauze off her wound. "This," he said, holding up the tin, "is a pain-relief lotion. You rub it over the wounds - it won't do anything to the stitches - and it numbs the area for a few hours. Works a hell of a lot better than any drug, and it doesn't affect your mind," he told her. He scooped a small amount onto his fingers, and then stepped closer to her to apply the gel-like lotion.

Ames gasped slightly when the cool lotion touched her skin, followed quickly by the feeling of Guerrero's surprisingly gentle fingers rubbing it in. He covered the entire wound, and the area around it, making sure it was completely covered. Ames could feel the difference almost immediately, thankful for the tingling sensation as the area began to go numb. "That's incredible," she spoke in a whisper, not trusting herself to make more noise than that.

Guerrero nodded, finishing with the wound. He wiped his hand on the towel that he'd stuck in his pocket, leaning forward to blow air onto the lotion, helping it to dry quicker.

Ames hoped that he didn't notice how her stomach clenched at the action, or how she'd stopped breathing altogether. The flush on her body could be attributed to her nerves, thankfully.

Guerrero slid the lid back onto the tin, picking up the gaze that he'd removed. He grabbed some medical tape from his bag, and reapplied the bandage, keeping the area protected. "Put this on all of your wounds before you go to bed, it'll help you sleep."

Ames nodded, taking the lotion from his hands. "Thanks."

He moved away and grabbed a mop that he'd placed in the corner, and began cleaning up the bleach that he'd sprayed on the floor.

Ames slid off the desk, replacing her clothing and sliding the small tin into the pocket of her jeans. She was about to leave, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. "So, did you find out who's responsible for all this?" she asked him, knowing that getting that information was the only reason that he'd kept the man alive.

Guerrero nodded, moving the mop across the floor, erasing the blood from sight.

"So ... who is it?" she wanted to know.

Guerrero paused, not looking back at her. He was silent for a long moment, but then turned his head to the side, pursing his lips. "My brother."

...

_End of chapter nine. _

_I was honestly on the fence about whether I wanted it to be Elizabeth's brother, or Guerrero's brother, but in the end, I wanted to go this route. A fight between then would be much more fun to write. Also, I have no idea if Guerrero really does have a brother on the show, but for the purposes of this story, he does. _

_Well, what did you guys think of this one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


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